b Papa Dog's Blog: Thick Air on the Rush Hour Train

Papa Dog's Blog

A Thing Wherein I Infrequently Write Some Stuff

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Thick Air on the Rush Hour Train

I see the error of my ways with the Mini Polls. I’m always providing a too-obvious “correct” answer. Of course you don’t want Adolf Hitler minding your child. Of course Gilbert Gottfried’s voice is one you wouldn’t want to listen to for all eternity. Of course you favoured John Kerry for President (did you vote, by any chance?). I’m a little saddened that nobody thinks Ashley Simpson is less stupid than boxes of rocks or hammers, but that too was kind of the obvious choice. So I’ll herewith make the current poll a little tougher by removing bowtie wearing pretty boy Tucker Carlson from the choices. Now you’ll have to exercise your imaginations to see the homelier right-wing yelling heads as women. Personally, I see George Fwill as a New England maiden aunt type. Rush Limbaugh as a woman? For some reason, I think that looks kind of like this, but make up your own minds.

But anyway.... Yesterday I began a new regimen. I’ve been setting my alarm for 6 a.m. rather than the luxurious hour of 6:24 I’ve favoured the last several years. It’s been a smashing success. For the first time in ages I got out the door at 7:45, early enough to make a train that got me to work at 8:30, the time I’m actually supposed to be here. That means I’m able to leave at 5:30, rather than 6 or 6:30 as has been my practice of late, and have that much more extra time at home with the family.

The downside is that the trains are more crowded at 5:30 than they are at 6 or 6:30. Yesterday I was so wrapped up reading my book (Part 2 of The Deptford Trilogy – Part 1 being the very first book I entered in the sidebar at left) that I didn’t even notice how crowded and warm the car was. Mama Dog was dropping Gran off at BART for her return to Saint Babs at roughly the same time I was due to arrive, so I called as we approached MacArthur and was pleased to learn we’d be able to rendezvous at Rockridge. As I hung up I heard a commotion behind me. I turned and saw a circle of people crowded around a tangled pair of legs on the car floor. That’s when it struck me how hot it was; a woman standing in the middle of the aisle had fainted. We were in the front car, so communication with the train operator was swift. Somebody came up with a bottle of water for the woman, and several people were fanning her. The guy by the TO’s door relayed information about her condition. Selfishly, I started to worry that this was going to keep me from connecting with Mama Dog – she had the baby with her, and I wouldn’t want her to wait for me if the train was going to be stuck waiting for paramedics. When the doors opened at MacArthur though, it let in cooling breezes and let out the woman, who disappeared in the crowd on the platform, apparently no worse for having keeled over. I could hear the TO relaying this information to Central, then the doors closed and we were off again. Baby Dog was cranky and crying, but I had almost an extra hour with my family last night, and I’ll step over any number of unfortunate fainters for that.


Blogger Brownstein said...

Under the right plastic surgeon's knife, Sean Hannity would almost pull of a Kathleen Turner chic.

4:48 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The proper time to set one's alarm for is 7:25.

paul Anonymous

7:43 PM  

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